This fic is discontinued

~0~

She violently woke up—scared half to death.

Ib wiped the sweat that was dripping incessantly from her forehead and neck, muttering curses under her breath. This has happened to her for the third time tonight. Her heart beat was at the point of breaking out through her thin chest, and she grasped it—to calm it or to rip it out.

Slipping her legs out of her blanket, she went through her bathroom door and flipped the lights open. She was still out of breath.

Damn

Ib slowly looked at herself in the mirror…

Ugly

Skinny shit

You look dead—

I might as well be…

Reaching for the water tap, her fingers closed around the scissors in the counter instead… Every time it's the same conversation in her head. She resisted cutting herself again, the last time she did her parents had cried and cried to her…those wails and moans that were even uglier than she.

Ib gripped the scissor handle.

Snip

Snip

Snip

Strands of her long brown hair fell to the ground. She was going to carve out a new image for herself. The result was a rough hewn shoulder-length hair.

Satisfied, she dropped the scissors and closed the lights. She shed her clothing and stepped inside the shower.

Ice cold water ran down on her body, cleansing her. Her soul felt lighter.

~1~

"Happy birthday Ib!" Her parents brought cake and cheer to her room. Ib cuddled further into the cool darkness of her blanket.

It was her birthday? She doesn't keep track of that kind of stuff.

"You've turned 17, honey!" Ib's dad placed the cake on her empty study table, setting up a plate and a fork.

"You cut your hair darling? It's cute." Her mom ran her fingers through her hair strands. Ib bit her lip tight, drawing out blood.

Her dad placed one candle on her cake and lit it. "Make a wish Ib!"

"What's the point?" Her lips moved numbly—like thin graying shells washed up on the beach.

"Well, you can wish for something to be better dear," her mother softly cooed.

That statement enticed her, for a second it made her believe on wishful thinking again. It actually got her to care about her birthday now.

Stupid

"Then... I wish for my nightmares to disappear. All of it." Ib stood up, walked over to her cake, and blew out the candle.

That might as well have been the most idiotic thing she's ever done, because 'hoping'…it crushes you later on.

And I taught myself better than to be like that…

~2~

Later on at night she got a call on her cell phone. It was 12:00 AM. Her phone didn't stopped ringing until finally she answered it.

"Meet me at Lotus Castle, and happy late birthday."

It was a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. The number was not however.

Ib rubbed her tired eyes and dressed herself in plain red t-shirt and jeans—not bothering to fix her hair or wash her face.

She took her cell phone and her dad's old military jacket and went out the door.

Twenty minutes later, Ib came up to the mysterious voice's appointed destination: "Lotus Castle".

Lotus Castle was an outdoor restaurant with a traditional Japanese garden theme. It was the local tourist attraction, with many foreigners stopping by during the daytime. It was nighttime and obviously the place was deserted. No one was around, and only the soft rippling of the Koi fish pond brought any presence of life.

Really, you'd think people nowadays would be a little less cliché. Ib grabbed her long, arm-length dagger from the side of her right boot and sliced it deftly at the cold, steel air.

Just show me your ugly bastard face already!

A shadow flicked swiftly at the side of her eyes, and she jumped back slightly as someone from behind grabbed her and hugged her.

The arms braced around her made her drop her dagger. "No need for a weapon now, it's only an old friend." She felt the man's moist lips softly brush past her ear. It sent goose bumps to crawl up and down her spine.

"An 'old friend' huh, sorry, I never had any friends," Ib harshly whispered.

The man ignored her and instead rolled down her jacket sleeve, examining the cuts she'd inflicted on herself the past month. His voice lowered, "These cuts should not be here."

"Ha, so you're just a random guy that knows my number, knows my birthday, and so happens to be a friend. That's hilarious." She giggled, which startled him for a second. Once he dropped his guard, Ib wretched free and turned around to face her mysterious caller.

It was weird… She knew him.

Crap, isn't he the one in my nightmares?! She repressed the thought.

"Who the hell are you?" Ib screamed. She picked up her dagger from the ground and pointed it straight to his chest.

"I'm not someone who's dangerous. Just thought to meet you privately and give you a gift." He waved his hand in the air casually, as if that will help prove his innocence.

"And what the hell is it? Why at this time?" She inched closer, keeping the knife's aim at the dead center.

He sighed, a heavy look on his eyes.

"I've been watching you, and you're getting better. So for that I commend you."

He stepped up, and grabbed her shoulders…passing right through her dagger.

"I'm dead, and you're not. Good job."

Her head felt light, and all of sudden the lights were out.

~3~

The first thing her subconscious mind locked onto was the night sky. The little points of light up there were like glowing cuts in the darkness.

God must have loved cutting at the sky for fun… There are billions of them in there.

She felt a hand touch her forehead—she blinked.

"Glad it only takes you ten-minutes to recover. I'm sorry to surprise you; sometimes I forget I'm...not solid."

Ib sat up, feeling extremely calm. Her military jacket had been blanketed around her, and she realized her pillow had been his lap.

"I think I know you, but when I try to remember… I only get the bad memories." She shivered, and she wrapped herself snugly with her dad's oversized jacket.

"Isn't this restaurant beautiful? I picked this as our meeting spot because I really liked it." He stood up and walked past her, absentmindedly disregarding her statement.

Ib was trying to confide to him—whatever help it may be—and yet he flat-out switch topics like talking to someone about your problems is some buffet you can choose your apple pies from. She felt her anger rose up, and watched him nonchalantly play around the Koi pond.

He turned back to see her upset, and he stopped. "Relax Ib, truth is none of us wants to remember. So please, let's not mention anything about the past."

To make up for the unpleasant start of their meeting, he produced a rose from the inside of his coat—a beautiful, healthy red rose. "For the birthday girl," he sweetly said, handing her the rose.

She pinched its stem delicately, hesitantly taking it from him. "Thank you. Is this the 'gift' you mentioned?"

What a weird guy… Well, he is dead.

"There's more if you're willing to stay." He walked towards her, boots clacking against the cobblestone path. "There wouldn't be any hard feelings on my part if you didn't."

She shrugged, "I came here lured by a stranger on my birthday—I was planning on staying."

He smiled, "I s'pose you wouldn't remember my name. My name's Garry, at your service." Garry bowed down, which Ib reciprocated.

There was a silence that drifted, and after awhile Garry resumed conversation, "While you were asleep—and I don't mean this to sound anything other than what it is—I took the liberty of examining the changes in you."

She coughed to get his attention. "Um, it sounded exactly what it sounded like."

For a second he looked at her blankly, then his mind did a rewind, and now he's blushing like an idiot.

"I—I didn't took off your clothes or anything! I—I only took your jacket to blanket you with some heat, I didn't even look at, umm…" Out of pure embarrassment he ceased to talk and quickly went over the Koi pond again, dashing his hands left and right on the smooth, water surface.

Ib was amused, a tight smile fitting on her lips. "You know for a dead guy, you're pretty funny."

He mumbled something, obviously still perturbed.

"I meant it as a joke, Garry!" she exclaimed loudly. This got his attention, and snapped him back to normal—or as normal as he can get around her.

"It's not funny. Besides I wouldn't do that to you in a million years—I'm…" he abruptly stopped.

"No longer older than you…"

She was confused for the first time tonight. "What do you mean?"

"I'm 17; you're 17, which means we're the same age. Fun fact! The dead doesn't age."

It bothered him that they were the same age? What's up with that?

"Doesn't bother me," she simply replied.

"It does to me!" he yelled, suddenly livid. "Means you're gonna get older and older, and I'll be the same teenage boy who died back there who couldn't keep our promise!" He gripped the top of his scalp, right where an odd patch of his hair was darker in color.

"What promise? I thought we wouldn't mention anything about the past." Ib stood up on her feet, letting out a long, tired yawn.

"You're right…I'm sorry. It's your birthday and I actually wanted to celebrate it with you. Guess I'm not exactly a fun person to hang around with—being dead and all." He let his shoulders slump, folding over and looking as if to bury himself in a mental shell.

Garry looked so pitiful that Ib felt like she had to cheer him up.

"C'mon, being dead has its perks. You can stalk someone and not get caught about it—you know if you're that closet perv type."

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better, but alright, I'll take it."

There's always a first at everything. 'Comforting someone' is now officially checked off in her Things-To-Do list.

"Hey, I have a question. It's a personal question, so I understand if you don't want to answer it."

"No, please go right ahead. It's your birthday, and it's the least I could do."

She took a deep breath, "Ok, so how exactly did you die?"

Garry wasn't exactly surprised at the question; he's been preparing an answer for it long before he even called her. Nonetheless, it still took him some time to compose himself.

"I wasn't as brave as you. I killed myself afterwards. I regretted it soon after I saw you again, already as a friggin ghost." Garry sighed, plucking up some stiff grass with indignity. "Sometimes I wished that I didn't cried as much over the little things, that instead I told to myself 'Hang on, there's better days ahead', but I couldn't see that with so many tears hindering my sight." He rolled over, blocking his eyes with his arm.

"I was a coward."

Her lips formed into a snarl involuntarily, "DON'T SAY THAT! YOU'RE NOT A COWARD! YOU'RE MORE THAN THAT—BECAUSE IF I COULD FIGHT IT YOU CAN TOO!" Ib's body was shaking, she was furious at him!

He gave a crooked smile, "I think it's a little bit too late to fight it now—for me at least. You're brave Ib, and I wish I had more of that spunk."

"That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard. 'I wish this', 'I was a coward' that. All you're telling me is that you didn't have enough of a backbone, and you've wasted your life being content with just hoping!"

Her feet walked up to him, stomping the ground. "I thought I told you to meet me again—ALIVE!"

She slapped him. No more 'no talking about the past' bullcrap; a promise was a promise.

That, he did not anticipate.

"Thank you." He touched his cheeks where it stung. It woke him up, and he felt relieved to finally be given some judgment.

"You're a spineless fool."

She turned away from him, and he immediately reached out for her, gripping her by her fingers.

"You don't hate me?"

"How can you hate someone who's just plain stupid? It's like trying to punch a puppy."

He smiled softly. Such a bold statement ought to have hurt him, but he knew better. Ib cares in her own, unique way.

"What if the puppy was only lonely, and hungered for love?"

She shifted the balance of her feet, her fingers still anchored by his hand.

"Then maybe you would have found it if you searched long enough."

"I did..."

"Killing yourself doesn't help."

"I know… It's you."

His confession disarmed her, made her head spin in circles in under a second.

She broke away from his grip.

What the hell have I been saying to him? Who am I to lecture him about being stupid? I'm no better!

"Could you… Could you kiss me?" he asked in a gentle whisper. It was in a way that if she denied it she will be literally taking a scissor and cutting through his soul—figuratively.

"I'm dead, so what will you lose if you kissed me?"

That next statement irritated her. Does he always have to be so defensive and sarcastic?

"You're right…so if I lean in like this, it would feel nothing—right?" She bent down, splaying her arms around his thin shoulders. She craned her neck at an angle that a little bit of her perfume touched his nose.

"No—I, I can still feel you…" he hesitantly replied. His lips almost nuzzled her neck.

Doesn't that mean my warmth could still reach you?

She nodded, staring into his eyes. "Death doesn't give you an excuse either. Be strong and move on."

Ib didn't know how to approach kissing with a ghost (she didn't even know how to with the living), and she merely followed her instincts. She parted her lips and closed her eyes. Thankfully, Garry wasn't a complete idiot and he just took her lips in without any awkward movements.

There was a spark in there, which was lit by the touch of their lips and fully ignited from the inside. A firework of sorts that jumbled up all circuitry that usually governed their thoughts and was dominated by only one feeling: affection.

When they parted for air, it's as if they charged the particles around them.

"Kissing a ghost ain't so bad…" Ib murmured.

"For your first kiss it was ok," Garry replied coolly.

She scowled, "Don't make me regret it."

The tension was indeed firing up between the two of them.

Ib quickly stood up, pausing to take a minute and reevaluate her thoughts. In the meantime she gathered her dad's jacket and her red rose from the grass.

Did I—did I felt something in that kiss? I—I have all these emotions, it's confusing! She rolled the rose's stem in-between her index finger and thumb.

"You'd have made a good wife—witty, independent, and brave…"

"Me? I'd never be a wife."

"A good wife to me I mean," he rephrased. "I mean, just analyze it! I have the opposite traits, and yours fit it into mine like a puzzle."

"Yeah, I can be your Corpse Bride," Ib sarcastically remarked.

"Ha…if only." The look in his eyes was that of a world submerged into some fantastical dream.

"You serious?"

"I wish I wasn't."

"You're utterly hopeless! You want me to die?"

"No, no. It's just, when you do die—many, many years later—I want us to marry."

She closed her eyes, keeping the tide of her feelings at bay, "That—that would be great, really."

"So you do want to be a wife!"

"O-Only if it's to be yours…"

Out of nowhere, Garry vanished and reappeared right in front of Ib. He bent down, "You'll have to wait then my corpse bride." He kissed her, and she felt that very same spark earlier—if not even more.

After that, Ib only felt a lingering of his warmth, and realized he had disappeared.

~X~

a/n: Thanks for reading! This story's an unexpected multichapter fic so I'll see where it goes in the future. I may bump up the rating later on.

Disclaimer: the wonderful cover art I'm using belongs to the member saikawa in Pixiv (cover changed).

Dedicated to my lil sis: cuz you made me like Ib/Garry and cuz you're a big Corpse Bride fan! :)